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Chapter Text

The casino was full of smoke. The acrid, pungent smell of tobacco was mixed with the sweetish smell of women's perfumes. Players were clustered around the tables like piles of seaweed. There was a buzz, occasionally interspersed with the sound of slot machines. Oh, Crowley loved it there. Humans, once they entered the casinos, lost their identities and joined the undistinguished crowd of people with one aim: to win.

Crowley was seated in a high chair at the bar. Wearing a red dress, he was so flashy and provocative that he attracted everyone's attention like a beacon. The waiter handed him two whiskeys. Crowley paid and thanked him with a nod, then headed inside the hall. He walked among the people with a deliberately sensual step. His long red dress was so tight that every curve of his body was visible. A perfect, mahogany-red bob of hair contoured his face with pronounced features.

The large green table glistened like a springtime meadow; people's eyes rested on the carpet, dozens and dozens of chips at the edges. A lady with a mouthpiece smoked at the corner of the table: her hands full of jewels. Crowley walked towards a man; he wore black glasses, a gold watch and a large diamond ring on his left ring finger. He was thin and long-faced.

"Mr Davies," Crowley said, with a charming smile. "Here's your drink."

"Oh, thank you, sweetheart."

"How's it going?"

"It's still too early to tell." 

Crowley pulled his chair up beside him, so close that their legs were touching. The man didn't mind at all. Crowley watched him play. He was very cunning and chose his moves carefully.

When Crowley had laid eyes on him that evening, he had found in him the perfect prey. He knew immediately that the man was addicted to gambling. His face was full of guilt. He had wandered around the tables looking at the other players with desire, but without allowing himself to play. It was extremely easy for Crowley to break him. He had seen him crack, he had seen him struggle against the temptation, struggle against Crowley. But the man could not win against him.

"Blow on this card, sweetheart. That way you'll bring me luck."

And Crowley leaned even closer to him. He half-closed his lipstick-coloured lips and blew slowly on the card Mr Davies was holding, letting his breath caress the man's fingers.

Mr Davies won and was so thrilled that he turned a dazzling smile on Crowley as he collected the chips.

"You really do bring good luck, darling!"

"Are you playing again?" asked Crowley, crossing his legs. He allowed a glimpse of his thigh through the vertiginous split in his dress.

"No, no, I don't think so. That's enough for today."

"Oh, come on," Crowley persisted. "You've just won a large sum of money. You're lucky today. Play another game, maybe you'll win even more!"

"I've played enough."

"Mr Davies, you're so careful. Don't you want me to blow on your cards again? So far I have been a good luck charm.”

The man looked at him and thought about it. Crowley saw the temptation in his eyes. He saw the man's mind swirling fast, his desire, his yielding.

"All right, but this is the last one."

Crowley leaned his back on the back of the chair and smiled, smug. He pulled out the packet of cigarettes in his handbag and lit one more, smoking with obvious satisfaction.

"Your wife will be pleased with your winnings," Crowley remarked. "If you win more she might be even happier."

Mr Davies turned sharply towards him, suddenly unnerved. "I'm not married."

"Liar. Your tan gives you away." Crowley grinned and brought his hands up to his, pointing to his ring finger. It was obvious from his tan that he'd taken off his wedding ring before coming here.

"Well, you got me."

"A married man courting me. Ah, what have I got myself into!"

Mr Davies raised an eyebrow, confused. "You don't mind?"

"Why should I? On the contrary, it turns me on to do something forbidden."

"You're a very peculiar woman, you know."

"I get that a lot," Crowley replied, teasingly. "Where did you leave your wife, then? How come you're here all alone?"

"I'm here on a business trip."

"Yeah, for sure!" Crowley chuckled in delight.

At one point, however, his laughter died in his throat. A voice behind him spoke, "Crowley."

Crowley turned, slowly. He was pleasantly surprised to hear that voice. He recognised it instantly. He cast a long look at Aziraphale through his black lenses. Aziraphale staggered as he looked at him more carefully. The sight of Crowley in that skimpy outfit made him blush suddenly. Poor thing, after all, no one could blame him. Everyone felt the same way about Crowley. He looked like the personification of eroticism.

"Aziraphale! What are you doing here?"

Mr Davies lost all interest in the game and turned towards them. He laid his clear eyes on Aziraphale, scrutinising him dangerously. "Who is this man?" he asked Crowley.

Crowley, before answering, brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the tobacco in a deep puff. He looked first at Mr Davies, then focused his attention on Aziraphale. "Just a friend."

Mr. Davies did not seem at all convinced. He cast a suspicious glance at Aziraphale again and squinted.

"Can I talk to you?" asked Aziraphale to Crowley.

"Of course," Crowley replied, waiting for him to continue.

"I mean alone."

"Now? Can't you see we're playing?"

Mr. Davies cut in, "Sweetheart, is this man bothering you?"

Crowley shook his head, resolute. "No, no. It's okay."

Crowley had noticed early on that Aziraphale had a disappointed, almost angry expression on his face. He was angry with him. It wasn't very common for the angel to get angry, so Crowley must have done something really bad. Crowley, however, had no intention of finding out what. He was afraid of an angry Aziraphale. An angry Aziraphale was inconceivable! All he wanted at that moment was to escape. But he couldn't. He was pinned there, much to his misfortune.

"Crowley, you didn't show up for our appointment."

"The appointment is the day after tomorrow. The 23rd of May, isn't it?”

"Today is the 23rd of May!" exclaimed Aziraphale.

Crowley's eyes widened. That was the reason. That was why Aziraphale was angry with him. "Heck, really? Time goes by so fast!"

"Crowley! We promised!"

Crowley made a strange, very ungracious sound, "Mmmghr, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Look, man, leave the lady alone. She doesn't seem too happy with your presence."

Aziraphale cast a dirty look at Mr Davies and sighed. "Crowley, come away. Where's your Bentley? We're going home."

"She's not going anywhere," growled Mr. Davies, standing up. He was at least forty centimetres taller than Aziraphale and had an imposing stature. He faced the angel, staring him straight in the eye, ready to throw a punch. "Go away, before this ends badly."

"Mister Davies, please try to calm down," Crowley invited, standing up as well. He threw his cigarette to the ground and laid a hand on the man's arm, trying to hold him back.

"Are you going to tell me who this man is? A lover of yours?" insisted Mr Davies, turning to Crowley.

"No! I told you, he's just an old friend."

"Old friend, my ass! Look, you little shit, leave us alone. Don't ruin our night any further."

Aziraphale held his breath, indignant. "What coarse language! There's no reason to get upset, sir!"

"Then get out of here, you prick."

There followed a deafening noise, a thud. Mr Davies found himself in a daze with his back pressed to the smooth casino floor. Crowley was on top of him, pinning him to the floor and holding his collar tight, almost suffocating him.

"What the hell...!" the man shouted.

Crowley had taken on a dangerous, almost manic expression. He had a strange smile on his lips as he looked at the man as if he wanted to strangle him for real. "Don't you ever dare address him like that again," Crowley intimated, his tone deep and dark. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes! All right, yes!"

Aziraphale stood paralysed watching the scene, unable to do anything or utter a word. He was all too astonished. Many had stopped to watch them, in fact. The commotion created when the man hit his back on the ground was so loud that it attracted the attention of those present. A man in a suit waved his arms, intent on calling security.

Crowley brought his fingers up to the human's face and stroked his cheek with the long black nails he had. He pressed so deep into the skin that it drew blood. The man screamed and tried to struggle, to run away, to no avail. When Crowley had had enough, he bared his alabaster teeth at him, in an amused grin. "Good boy."

Crowley let go of him and rose from the ground elegantly. He took Aziraphale by the arm and said, "Come, Aziraphale. I'll take you home."

Chapter Text

The underground car park of the casino was well lit and their footsteps echoed on the concrete floor. It was full of cars, all expensive, with tinted windows.

"How did you know I was here?" asked Crowley.

Aziraphale blushed suddenly and avoided meeting his eyes. "I have my ways."

Crowley slowed his walk to get a better look at him. He had one eyebrow raised and an amused smirk stretching his lips. "When you're being mysterious it means you've done something illegal. Tell me, what have you done? I'm curious."

"Better if you don't ask."

"Look," Crowley sighed. "Next time, you don't need to call up every secret agent in town to find me. Really, it's not worth it."

"I was worried!" exclaimed Aziraphale exasperatedly. "You didn't show up for our appointment and I thought something had happened to you!"

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Aziraphale. You are too paranoid. Don't you understand yet that we are safe? Heaven and Hell will leave us alone."

"What if they change their minds? What if they want to hurt us? I don't want to see you disappear overnight, Crowley. I couldn't handle that."

Crowley froze. He no longer moved a single muscle. Aziraphale, realizing that he had stopped, turned to him, confused.

Crowley was smiling.

"What?" asked Aziraphale, frowning.

"Nothing."

And so, they kept walking. They walked an eternity. They passed many sports cars and cars with colours so bright that they hurt their eyes. At one point Aziraphale had the feeling that they had already passed that way.

"Is it much further?" he asked.

"I honestly can't remember where I parked my car."

"What! Are we walking in circles?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe?" said Crowley. "It's not my fault. Some of these car parks have some demonic tricks. It's all the same and you're doomed to search for your car for a long time."

Aziraphale sighed, incredulous. "Sounds like one of your ideas."

Crowley grimaced and Aziraphale realised he was right.

"Well, isn't that fascinating?" Crowley tried to defend himself. "For humans not being able to find their cars is one of the most frustrating things. They feel like they're wasting their time for nothing."

They walked in circles. Aziraphale was carefully scanning the car park with his eyes, sighing from time to time.

"Relax, Aziraphale. The more nervous you get, the longer it will take us to find the Bentley."

"Now we're the ones wasting time for nothing."

"It doesn't feel like wasting time to me. I'm with you."

Aziraphale, on hearing that smugness, stretched his lips, but said nothing.

They walked for another ten minutes or so, until the Bentley finally appeared, in all its glory.

As soon as they got into the car, the engine started on its own and the music came out of the speakers without Crowley having pressed anything. The Bentley accelerated with a roar and sped through the underground car park well above the speed limit. Azirpahale, as usual, was clinging tightly to the door, his back pressed against the seat and his body tense. Decades earlier he had already realised that he would never get used to Crowley's swaggering way of driving.

Aziraphale listened more carefully to the song that was playing at full volume. The sound of the piano captured his attention and the sinuous voice of Freddie Mercury greeted him.

You've captured my love

Stolen my heart

Changed my life

Every time you make a move

You destroy my mind

And the way you touch

I lose control and shiver deep inside

You take my breath away

You can reduce me to tears

With a single sigh

Crowley let out a cough. He pressed the off button, but the music did not stop. The radio would not turn off. Crowley got nervous. He pressed again, but it wouldn't turn off either. So Crowley hit the radio, hoping to silence it, but to no avail. He hit it again, and again, and again…

"Crowley, stop it! It must be broken."

Crowley shook his head. "It isn't. This car does as it pleases and sooner or later it will drive me mad!"

The song continued without being stopped and they both remained in perfect silence. Crowley looked mortified.

I could give up all my life for just one kiss

I would surely die

If you dismiss me from your love

You take my breath away

So please don't go

Don't leave me here all by myself

"What were you doing there? Why were you in a casino?" asked Aziraphale.

"To have fun, I guess."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "How many people did you tempt?"

"About ten, I think. It's awfully easy in the casinos. They're all so willing to give in to temptation."

"And that man who was with you?"

"Oh, a poor fellow. Addicted to gambling for years. With each new game he felt guilty about playing again, but each time I managed to tempt him."

I get ever so lonely from time to time

I will find you

Anywhere you go, I'll be right behind you

Right until the ends of the Earth

"I'm sorry I ruined your evening," Aziraphale said. "That was not my intention. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"You didn't ruin my evening."

"Do you... do you want to continue the evening somewhere else?"

Crowley turned to him, stared at him for a long time, no longer paying attention to the road. Aziraphale squeezed even more tightly into the seat. At that moment the Bentley was making a turn and by some miracle they didn't crash.

"Where would you like to go?" asked Crowley.

"I don't know. It's late. Won't everything be closed already?"

Crowley chuckled. "Not the places I know."

Chapter Text

They went to the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Crowley parked right in front of the building, where the street signs clearly indicated it was forbidden. Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief and got out of the Bentley, then laid eyes on the place. The building was tall and circular and there were floodlights illuminating it. As they entered, Aziraphale saw a drag queen performing a song on the small stage. The movements she made and her dancing was so charismatic that the audience went wild. They were all on their feet clapping their hands to the music and dancing and shouting. Aziraphale stood watching, fascinated, until he realised that Crowley was talking to someone. It was a woman who was greeting Crowley enthusiastically.

"Have you been here before?" asked Aziraphale, as soon as Crowley had finished his conversation with her.

"Sometimes, yes."

They went to sit at a small table and almost immediately the waiter arrived to ask them what they wanted to order.

"Chardonnay, a whole bottle," Crowley said.

"Certainly, gentlemen. Coming right up."

A few minutes later the waiter returned. He uncorked the bottle and then poured a drop into Crowley's glass for him to taste. Crowley swirled the liquid around in the glass a bit before sniffing it and taking a sip. He savoured the taste on his tongue and nodded in approval. He waited for the waiter to refill the two glasses and leave before raising his. "Cheers."

"Are you planning on getting drunk?" asked Aziraphale, intrigued.

"Not particularly, no."

"Then are you planning to get me drunk?"

Crowley smiled mischievously. "Maybe."

Aziraphale assumed a playful expression. "I could object. I could refuse to drink."

"That would be a shame. You wouldn't want to waste good wine, I hope? Here, taste." Crowley handed him the glass and Aziraphale took it, taking a sip.

"How does it taste?" Crowley asked.

"It is good. It leaves an exquisite taste on the palate."

"Hmm."

Music filled their ears as the floor vibrated to the rhythmic stomping of so many feet. The air grew warmer and heavier from the scents. The drag queen finished her performance and everyone clapped excitedly.

"So," Crowley continued. "What do you think of this place?"

"I like it a lot. There is peace here."

"Peace? It doesn't feel like it. I can barely hear you."

"Not like that. I feel... peace. Most of the people around us feel safe in here.”

Crowley was so stunned by those words that he could say nothing but: "Oh." He looked around at the people enjoying themselves, drinking, dancing and excitedly watching the show.

Then at some point someone came along. A man in his thirties, with dark eyes and full lips. "Anthony! How nice to see you again!" He wrapped a hand around Crowley’s shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hello, Lucas. How are you doing?"

"Pretty good, actually.”

"Have you managed to find a new job?"

"Yes! I'm now a secretary in an eye doctor's office."

"Well, well! Much better than what you were doing before!"

“Damn right!" Then he interrupted, realizing Aziraphale's presence. "Are you going to introduce me to your...?"

"Friend."

"Oh, friend. Okay."

"Lucas, this is Aziraphale. Aziraphale this is Lucas."

Aziraphale smiled tenderly at him and reached out to shake Lucas's hand. "It is a real pleasure to meet you, Lucas. Would you like to sit here with us? There's a seat available."

"Are you two sure I'm not a bother?"

"Not at all!"

"Then I'll gladly accept. I haven't seen Crowley for too long! Where on earth have you disappeared to?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff. I had to save the world from the Apocalypse."

Lucas laughed, thinking he was joking. "Anyway, try to show up more often. I want to see you perform on that stage again."

"Perform?" asked Aziraphale, shocked.

Lucas parted his lips. "Didn't he tell you? Crowley often performs here!"

"Is that so?"

"And he's good, too! He does everything! He sings, dances and does comedy. He's a born entertainer."

Crowley brought a hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He was obviously embarrassed. "Oh, Lucas, I don't do anything special."

"Are you kidding? You're my favourite!" he exclaimed, then turned to Aziraphale again. "You know, two years ago I made him promise to perform on my birthday and it was the funniest thing in my life! I laughed so hard my stomach hurt for hours! Best birthday ever."

Aziraphale felt a twinge of envy. He'd never seen Crowley do anything like this, and to find out that he'd performed many times without him even knowing it was a real shame. "Please, Crowley, next time you perform I want to come and see you!"

It was an almost pleading request and both Crowley and Lucas realised it. There was something different in the tone Aziraphale had used. There was curiosity, desire, thirst. A thirst for knowledge. Thirst to discover sides of Crowley he had never known.

"If you wish," Crowley replied, serious.

A brief silence fell, which was interrupted by Lucas.

"So. Azra...? Azrafel. What do you do for a living?"

"I run a bookshop in Soho."

"A bookshop! So you like books?"

"I love them."

"Good, good! I have a friend I could introduce you to. He's a professor of literature at the university. You might get along well."

"Of course! I'd love to meet him!" replied Aziraphale, not realising the implications of that sentence.

Lucas clapped his hands, pleased. "He must be here somewhere, if you want I'm going to go find him for you!”

Crowley shifted in his chair, clearly agitated, yet said nothing. Lucas after a few minutes reappeared with a man in his fifties, tall and handsome. Lucas literally dragged him in front of their table, regardless of his contrite expression. His name was Daniel Byrne and he was a professor at Oxford University. They introduced themselves and the man was offered a glass of their Chardonnay. The conversation turned out to be fluent, free of awkward silences.

"Lucas revealed to me that you like books. Do you have any favourite books?"

"Of course I do!"

And they talked. They talked about literature and Shakespeare. They talked about Plato and Homer, about Hesse and Hannah Arendt. Aziraphale delighted in this exchange of opinions and reflections. He was fascinated by the man's way of thinking, the words he used, his high level of knowledge.

Crowley was completely silent, motionless in his chair. He said nothing for a long time. Aziraphale realised this and turned to him, suddenly apprehensive.

"Is something wrong, my dear?"

"I'm just a little tipsy. "

"Oh."

Nevertheless, Aziraphale saw Crowley bring the glass of wine to his lips and down the liquid in one gulp.

"How about we continue our conversation at my place, Aziraphale?" suggested the professor. "I have some books I'd like to show you. They are first editions."

"Oh! Really? How interesting! Which ones do you have?"

"Emily Bronte and Mary Shelley."

Aziraphale smiled enthusiastically and made to accept, but just then Crowley moved, it was a sudden, jerky movement, and he grabbed Aziraphale's arm, holding him back. "Please stay."

"Crowley! This is an opportunity I cannot pass up."

"How will you get home?" he insisted.

"I can drive him back. I have a car," the professor said. "No problem."

"No," Crowley grunted and stared dangerously at the professor through his black glasses. "He's not going anywhere with you."

Crowley's tone had been extremely rough, so much so that it destabilized both Daniel and Aziraphale.

"Crowley!" shouted Aziraphale, astonished.

Daniel nodded, as if to say that it was okay. "My bad. I guess I misunderstood," replied the professor. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to stir things up. I'll leave you two alone now, shall I? Anyway, it's been a real pleasure making your acquaintance, Aziraphale. If you ever want to talk again, in friendship, call me."

The professor gave him his number, greeted them warmly and disappeared into the crowd of people.

"You were so rude! What's wrong with you?" Aziraphale scolded Crowley.

"The man wanted to show you something else too, not just his first editions!"

"I understood that!"

Crowley petrified, looking almost hurt. "You... understood?"

"I'm not that naive, Crowley! I've lived on this planet as long as you have!"

"And... and... would you have... continued?"

"Of course not! I wasn't interested in him like that! I would have gone to his house, looked at his books and then left!"

Crowley closed his eyes and sighed with relief. His expression relaxed immediately, the wrinkles disappearing from his tense forehead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you realized what that man wanted."

"Do you always think me so naive?"

"No, no, angel. Not at all! I was... it was just that..."

Aziraphale shook his head and looked at him more gently. "Okay. Don't worry about it. I didn't take it out on you."

"No?"

"Have I ever?"

Chapter Text

The evening continued without any more problems. Now a young man in his early twenties had appeared on stage. He looked a little anxious, being the centre of attention was not easy for him. The music flooded the hall and the boy forgot about the audience and just concentrated on the rhythm of the music, making sinuous movements that captivated the audience with ease. He was a dancer and danced beautifully. He even caused a silence in the audience, everyone had stopped talking and focused their attention on him. There was something extremely bewitching about his figure. When the boy finished his dance, the hall erupted in cheers and applause. Aziraphale also applauded loudly, moved.

"Really wonderful! Bravo!"

An intermission was announced and Crowley decided to go and get another bottle of wine from the bar. When he returned, he saw Aziraphale sitting composedly in his chair, looking around him with absolute tranquillity. There was something beautiful in that vision; Aziraphale enjoying the pleasures of the world, surrounded by people looking for love.

Crowley returned to his seat, uncorked the bottle and, as he poured the wine into Aziraphale's glass, Aziraphale spoke.

"I wanted to..." But he paused, unsure whether to continue.

Crowley looked at him, puzzled. "What, angel?"

"There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Anything you want."

"I... it's just a proposition, nothing more. Don't take it the wrong way. You can say no if you don't want to..."

"Aziraphale. Tell me."

"You know that since the day we deceived Heaven and Hell I have been very anxious all the time... I am afraid that they might find out what we have done, that they might come after us... That they might harm you."

"Aziraphale, we have talked about this many times before. If they haven't found out until now, they will never find out. You must calm down. Seriously, there is no danger."

"I know, I know... but I can't help but worry. About you."

"I'm not going anywhere. You know that."

"But..."

"Aziraphale."

For a few seconds they looked at each other intently, searching the other's eyes for reassurance. Crowley instinctively grasped the angel's hands and squeezed them tenderly. First one, then the other, and Aziraphale let him.

"You are so troubled. What can I do for you? What did you want to ask me?"

"You can refuse if you don't want to. You don't have to agree..."

"Aziraphale, please tell me what you want."

"I would like..." Aziraphale swallowed, nervous. "What would you say if... if we lived together?"

Crowley didn't change his expression. He remained calm and composed, trying not to alter his face one iota, so as not to alarm Aziraphale. But, inside, he was screaming. "Living together?"

"I told you... it was just a proposal! It's perfectly fine if you don't want it! It's normal that you want your own space and..."

"Fine."

"And you're not used to living with someone and..."

"Aziraphale, fine."

"And it would be strange for you if we lived in the same house..."

"Aziraphale!" Crowley exclaimed, interrupting his blather. "I'll repeat it as many times as you need, but please try to calm down a bit. All right. I accept. I agree. In fact, I think it's a great idea."

"You really want to...?"

"Bloody hell, yes! Yes. If it'll help lessen your anxiety, of course it's okay with me."

"Aren't you going to tire of my continued presence?"

Crowley had some difficulty understanding that question, as if he had suddenly been stabbed in the heart and his breath was running out. He wanted to say many things, he wanted to tell him that his presence had never tired him in six thousand years. He wanted to tell him how much his presence actually enriched his existence, how important he was to him, how happy he was with his proposal to live together, but all that came out of his lips was: "Why would I?"

"Crowley, you need to know that there's another reason I'm asking as well..."

"And that would be?"

"I don't want to lie to you, I don't want to... deceive you. That's why I... I have to tell you. I have to tell you that it's not just to know you're safe that I want to live with you, but also because... Because..."

Crowley's heart sped up and a strange nervousness fluttered in his stomach. His emotions were in turmoil. Emotions he had long believed he could control.

"You're... you...ah..."

Aziraphale could not continue. He was red in the face up to the tips of his ears.

"Why don't we continue this conversation outside? There will be less noise," Crowley suggested, when he realised that Aziraphale had no intention of continuing. He had remained silent, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

And so Aziraphale obeyed his request. They stood up. Crowley grabbed his things and headed for the exit. Aziraphale walked behind him, feeling sluggish and agitated.

They walked out into the street, which was deserted and lit by the electric lights of the street lamps. The Bentley was waiting for them where they had left it.

"Get in the car, angel. We won't be disturbed."

And Aziraphale obeyed again, without countering, without protest. His anxiety was through the roof. It was anxiety to love, anxiety to be loved, anxiety to be rejected.

The Bentley greeted them strangely in silence. The engine did not start, nor did the music. It seemed that the car had sensed that there was something different between them, that something was happening.

"Angel."

"Aziraphale."

Aziraphale roused himself and realised that he had continued to stare at the void before him for minutes on end, not even breathing. He had remained perfectly still, as if he wanted the void to swallow him up, as if he wanted to disappear.

"Do not fear," Crowley reassured him, with extreme gentleness. "Aziraphale, do not fear."

"My dear, forgive me. I shall seem a fool to you."

"You are never a fool."

"There's so much I want to tell you, but I'm afraid I'll frighten you."

"I won't run away."

"But will it frighten you, Crowley? Will it scare you?"

Crowley took off his glasses, as if he wanted to strip away all protection, all shields, as if he wanted to make himself completely vulnerable before Aziraphale.

"Yes. Of course it will. It will because I had wanted this to happen for a long time. It will frighten me because I am aware that you can have strong feelings, Aziraphale. You are an angel and you… you feel. So. Much. And the mere realization that you are addressing your feelings to me... They will frighten me for their impetuosity, for their intensity, for their immensity, it will frighten me at the idea of being loved so deeply, it will frighten me that you love me, Aziraphale."

"Why?"

Crowley's serpentine eyes scrutinised Aziraphale intently. Oh, Aziraphale had always loved them. So large, so deep, so radiant.

"What if I am not capable of loving you as intensely as you love me? What if demons really are not capable of love? What if God really has deprived us of this joy?"

"No," replied Aziraphale. "No."

"No?"

"You can love. You have always loved. You have loved the world and these people from the Beginning, you have loved life and you have loved me."

"But you don't sense anything, do you? You don't sense love coming from me. You are an angel and you sense nothing when you are close to me. I don't love."

"Crowley." Aziraphale was annoyingly indignant at those words. "In all my existence I have never seen anyone love as much as you do."

Those words burned Crowley, but it was not a lacerating burning, but a soothing one, a burning that was good for him, that healed that troubled soul of his. He clasped his hands together in the seat. They trembled. He tried to banish the tears that had welled up in his eyes. "Are you sure we can?" he asked. "Are you sure you want to? Are you sure you won't mind loving something you don't feel love from?"

"I feel your love every day, Crowley. I see it. I perceive it. I feel it in your gestures, I feel it in your words and your expression, always. When you pour me wine, when you take me out to eat even though you don't like to eat at all, when you give me gifts, when you offer to put my books away, when you need me, when you want my opinion, when you call me on the phone and tell me about the experiences you had that day, when you linger in my bookshop late into the night just to keep me company, when you are attentive to me, when you look at me, when you want me safe..."

Aziraphale interrupted abruptly, for a sob had filled Bentley's silence. Crowley was sobbing convulsively. He was trying to hide his face, to turn to the window, to turn his back on him. Not to show Aziraphale his tears.

"Oh, Crowley..." Aziraphale reached out to him, touched his back. He stroked it and felt every muscle tense. "It's all right, Crowley, ssh."

Crowley sobbed loudly. They were sobs so loud that they shook his entire body, overcome by a wave of feeling. He cried for a long time, with the whispers of Aziraphale's voice caressing his ears, his voice firm and gentle.

"Th-thank you. For this," Crowley said at one point, when he managed to calm down a little.

"There's nothing to thank me for. There is no need. There will never be.”

"But I'll thank you anyway. Now, if you want, you can... you can tell me what you wanted to tell me."

Aziraphale nodded slowly. He took his time before starting to speak. He reframed his thoughts, thought about the right words to use. "You are very important to me, Crowley. Without you I would not feel the same happiness in my existence. Without you there is no point in exploring the pleasures that Earth offers. Without you there is no meaning."

Crowley closed his eyes and savoured the angel's words. He repeated them in his mind over and over and then, finally, he accept them. He felt his heart tighten, his stomach churn, his emotions shake completely. Then he opened his eyelids, looked at Aziraphale, gave him a long, loving look and said: "You are very important to me, Aziraphale. Without you I would not feel the same happiness in my existence. Without you there is no point in exploring the pleasures that Earth offers. Without you there is no meaning."

And Aziraphale smiled. It was not one of his usual smiles, those smiles he offered to everyone, those kind smiles of his, that smiles he made even when people were not very kind to him. No, it was a different smile, a smile that he only gave to Crowley. And that night, it was spectacular. It created wrinkles around his eyes, his eyebrows rose, his cheeks lit up and his eyes... his eyes shone a crystal blue.

"Come here, my dear. Can I give you a hug? Can I hold you for a while?"

Crowley was still crying and Aziraphale was crying too now. The demon nodded and allowed himself to be wrapped in Aziraphale's comforting arms. His heart stopped beating so furiously, his breathing became calmer. He sensed the warmth of the angel's body, his hands caressing his back, up and down, up and down, and occasionally stopping on his neck, where Aziraphale touched him very gently.

"I love you, Crowley. I love you so much and you love me. You love me so much, my dear boy."

"Yes, yes. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

Crowley ran his fingers through his platinum hair, so soft and fine. Aziraphale's body smelled good, clean, like parchment and cinnamon. They held each other even tighter, pressed their bodies together, but suddenly Crowley pulled away, slowly, to be able to place his yellow eyes in the angel's.

"Can I... can I... touch your face?" he asked.

"You may. Any part of me, Crowley. I'm yours."

And Crowley explored with his fingers, brushed Aziraphale's cheeks, his chin, his lips, his eyelids. So beautiful, so extraordinary.

Aziraphale was moved by the delicacy Crowley used on him, as if he were handling something fragile, as if he were blooming a rose petal, as if he might break him at any moment.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," the angel murmured.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"You waited so long, it's my fault. I was afraid. Afraid of the judgement of Hell and Heaven, afraid of God. I made you suffer, I rejected you, that day, in this very car. I saw the disappointment in your eyes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters, everything matters."

"No. Not now. Not anymore." Crowley laid a finger on his lips. The pressure made Aziraphale's lips part, and Crowley felt his warm breath on his finger. "We are free now, angel. Free to love each other as we wish."

"And tell me, Crowley, tell me, how would you like to be loved?"

"I want to be loved as you want to love me. I will be grateful for anything you want to give me."

"You are so beautiful, Crowley, so beautiful. The most beautiful creature in this world. I have never known anything more beautiful than you."

"Angel..."

They embraced again. They sank their bodies into each other's, as if they wanted to glue themselves together and never let go.

"Can I kiss you, my dear? Can I kiss you everywhere?" asked Aziraphale.

"You may."

And Aziraphale kissed him, first on his forehead, then on his cheek, then on the corner of his lips. They were kisses as delicate as a butterfly's wings. His warm lips pressed against Crowley's skin, electrifying him and feeling a shiver with every touch. Crowley could resist no longer and moved hastily, kissing him on the lips. The kiss tasted sweet, intense. Crowley relaxed against him, placed a hand on Aziraphale's chest. The kiss began almost shyly, but then grew in intensity. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist and pressed, bringing their bodies even closer together. They kissed for a long time, as if they couldn't get enough.

"Oh, Aziraphale..." Crowley was crying and laughing at the same time. "I'm so happy. I've never been so happy."

"Neither have I."

"Forgive me for crying, but I can't hold back the tears. I'm so happy. I didn't think I could deserve something like this."

"You deserve this and so much more. And cry, cry all you want. I'm right here."

"Aziraphale..." Crowley sank his head into his shoulder and laughed, laughed with joy. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I was never sure if it was true."

"It is."

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

"I know, I know, I know."

"I love you so much, I love you more than anything in the world."

"Me too."

"I love you more than I love mankind, I love you more than I love plants, I love you more than I love stars, I love you more than I love the Bentley."

The Bentley, upon hearing him utter that phrase, clicked its windshield wipers and its headlights flashed furiously.

They both laughed heartily.

"Don't be so dramatic now!" Crowley spoke to the car. "You already knew that. And all these years you've been trying to get me to confess. Your damn music. You put on romantic songs when Aziraphale came in on purpose!"

Then the Bentley turned on the radio and, again, Freddie Mercury's voice leaked out of the speakers.

I'll get no sleep till I find you to tell you

That you just take my breath away

I will find you

Anywhere you go

Right until the ends of the Earth

I'll get no sleep till I find you to

Tell you when I've found you

I love you

"I really like this song," Aziraphale said.

"Me too."

Crowley revved the engine and the Bentley sped off, taking a side alley.

"Do you want me to move into your bookshop? Or you want to move into my place?" asked Crowley, resting a hand on Aziraphale's and sinking his fingers between his.

"As you wish."

"Do you even have a bed?"

"Of course I have a bed, though I never use it. I still have to keep up appearances."

"The bookshop then works for me, so be it.”

THE END